Where The Orange Blossoms Grow...: February 2013

We love going to the strawberry U-Pick down the road every year! Good deal and good times!

Thanks for stopping by, y'all!

The Orange Blossom Song

I want to wake up in the morning where the orange blossoms grow,
Where the sun comes creepin' into where I'm sleepin',
and the song birds say hello.

I want to wander over yonder, Pick the fruit that's hanging low,
I want to make my home in Florida where the orange blossoms grow.

I want to wake up in the morning where the ocean breezes blow,
I want to cast my line on the falling tide,
Where the tarpon swim below.

I love the sunshine and the beaches, where the palms sway to and fro,
I want to make my home in Florida where the orange blossoms grow.

I want to wake up in the morning where the Spanish moss hangs low,
Where the gators swim through the Everglades,
And the grand old live oaks grow.

I love the wildwoods, and the cities, and the friends I've come to know.
I want to make my home in Florida where the orange blossoms grow.

I want to wake up in the morning where the orange blossoms grow,
Where the sun comes creepin' into where I'm sleepin',
and the song birds say hello.

I want to wander over yonder, Pick the fruit that's hanging low,
I want to make my home in Florida where the orange blossoms grow.

Here Is Home

Here is home, my blessed home.
Florida is her name.
God’s Providence has brought me here,
So here I will remain.

Here is home, my beautiful home,
Where God's creation sings
About the mighty power and grace
Of Jesus Christ our King.

Here is home, where in the Spring
The orange blossoms bloom,
And fill my senses to the brim
With their sweet perfume.

I love to hear the honey bees
Buzzing with all their might.
I love the clear, blue, cloudless sky,
And radiant stars at night.

Here is home, where Summer comes
With its burning heat,
Relentlessly providing us
With bugs and burning feet.

But when the Lord provides us
With a gentle shower,
It lifts the weary, wilted head
Of every wildflower.

Here is home, where in the Fall,
I don my scarves and sweater,
But really I don’t need them.
Cotton would do better.

No Autumn leaves are falling.
The trees are still quite green,
But a crisp, cool breeze is blowing,
And the days grow short, it seems.

Here is home, where Winter comes.
It's not so very cold,
But how I love to dig in the sand
My numb and barefoot toes!

In wintertime I love to eat
An orange from the tree.
Such a sweet and sticky treat.
Quite a delicacy!

Here is home where I am proud
To be a humble part
Of Florida's great, rich history,
And hold it near my heart.

The land on which I've tromped and played,
The Spanish settlers roam'd.
They called this place the “Land of Flowers,”
And here they made their home.

When war broke out between the States,
We proved our loyalty
To the precious Southern cause,
For God and Liberty!

Some folks call us “Florida Crackers.”
I'm proud to hold that name.
My ancestors were proud as well,
To call themselves the same.

Here is home, My home, sweet home,
Where life is at it's best.
Every day I thank the Lord,
For I am truly blessed!

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Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Strawberry Picking!